the east of Humbug Canyon," Dickson answered thoughtfully: "but
it will be considerable out of our way and the trail won't be nigh as
good. I am not absolutely sure, but I think we could get through all
right that way and not go nigh Humbug Canyon."

"Shall we risk it?" and Mr. Conroyal turned to the men, all of whom had
been interested listeners to his query and to Dickson's answer.

"I think the idea a good one," declared Mr. Randolph, "because, if the
old miner told them that the trail to the cave passed through Humbug
Canyon, they'd be sure to have someone on the watch for us there; and, I
reckon, we are good enough mountaineers to find the trail on the other
side without much trouble."

"My sentiments tew a ha'r," agreed Ham emphatically. "Let's hit for Owl
Gulch. 'Twould be worth goin' a hundred miles out of th' way tew shake
them skunks."

"All right," and Mr. Conroyal turned to Dickson. "You are the guide from
now on, Dick, so step to the front and we will follow."

This plan appeared to please all except Pedro, who, bending down by the
side of one of the horses and pretending to tighten a rope holding the
pack, scowled furiously and swore violently, under his breath, in
Mexican; and the scowl was still on his face, when he again straightened
up and prepared to follow along with the pack-horses.

"What's the trouble, Pedro? Flapjacks getting busy?" and Thure turned a
grinning face to the Mexican.

"No. Pack slip and pinch finger in rope. Now all right," and the smile
came back on Pedro's face.

But Thure noticed that the scowl returned again and again to his face
that forenoon, as he walked along by the side of the pack-horses.

"Reckon the break in his sleep has made him cross," he thought, and gave
the matter no more attention.

At noon, when they stopped to give horses and selves a short rest and a
chance to eat their dinners, Pedro slipped off behind a rock for some
ten minutes; and, when the journey was resumed, he lagged a little
behind the others, pretending to be tightening one of the packs, and,
once again, managed to slip, unseen, a little piece of paper under a
stone and leave it near the camp-fire over which Mrs. Dickson had heated
the coffee. This little feat seemed to fully restore his good-nature;
for there were no more scowls on his face that day.

About the middle of the afternoon Dickson halted, where the stream along
whose bank they had been walking for the last two hours forked, o